


idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on it's sword;

by lannistered



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M, everyone loves coffee, the kaiju egg is a lie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannistered/pseuds/lannistered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in summary: tablets are too easily broken, newt consumes too much caffeine and still doesn't have enough energy to admit his own feelings, hermann is the one with maternal instincts, baby kaiju aren't as destructive as you first thought, and first impressions take years to be broken down (but not if you look hard enough).</p><p>this work's title is from a song by "hozier", called "from eden".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. quarrels and new(t) (begin)ning(s)

Newton Geiszler is, in short, endearing. He has a voice of higher range than most of his colleagues (and Hermann swears that if he has to hear it say anything similar to "rad" again he will rip his own ear lobes off in a fit of undiluted rage), he can recite the entire Japanese alphabet but can only say the word "omelette" (tamagoyaki) - because he really doesn't have _time_ , Hermann, to learn anything else, and if he _did_ , he'd learn it quicker than him _anyway_ , and he prides himself in having a great ass (especially in skinny jeans, despite complaints from yet again, _Hermann_ , that "they are an abomination to our time". Suck it up, jackass).

He walks into work as if he is living on three Red Bull cans an hour, which he probably is, and Hermann's concern over the dilation of his pupil almost makes him likable (almost), until he hits his cane into the back of Newt's already wrinkled shirt and tells him "for goodness' sake, hurry up, you nuisance" on the way into the mess. So. Yeah. Almost likable.

Newt is the soul of his lab space, in that he is the squelching of kaiju anatomy and a despaired yell as he accidentally wipes some on his glasses, pleading to someone, _anyone_ , to take them off of him. Akemi, the girl transferred from Tokyo to Sydney to Tokyo in a week and who has adapted remarkably well despite the lack of sand and "actually good beer" surrounding her, has to climb under her desk to stop from giggling. Nathaniel (wonderful man, as he is taller than Newt and does this thing where he has the most _amazing_ forearms) laughs hysterically into his dregs of coffee. Hermann, rolling his eyes almost back into his skull, stalks over, leaning heavily on his cane, to whip Newt's glasses off of his face and to slap him with them, sides of his mouth upturning as "you are a BITCH, Hermann Gottlieb" reverberates across the lab space. 

Newt is there when Nathaniel gets the phone call that his sister is pregnant, and still has a crick in his back from when Nathaniel gripped him so hard his feet lifted off of the ground, breathing into his neck that "she's having a _kid_ ", and the next day, Newt bought him a card with the "mother" bit crossed out and replaced with "uncle" on the normal "Congratulations about being a mother!" greeting. Nathaniel smiled so wide that Newt thought he was going to collapse from how aesthetically pleasing it was, both to his heart and to his groin. Mostly to his heart, though. Newt isn't that insensitive. The baby was born with brown eyes a shade lighter than his skin (they matched Nathaniel's - Newt mentioned this offhand and thought he was going to cry when Nathaniel grasped his elbow and grinned, again), and Nathaniel has a photo of him, held in the arms of his sister - flushed, tired, glowing - stuck to the corner of his computer screen. 

Newt is there when Akemi breaks her arm, and stayed with her for 6 hours when he'd usually be meeting Hermann and listening to him jokingly complain about the decor of the shitty restaurant Newt had picked, snorting into his beer, and had successfully worked his way through 132 pages of Japanese phrases in the hope that one would epitomise: "Your daughter has broken her arm but she's okay. Ish. She passed out because she also got a nose bleed. She is absolutely fine, but we're in a hospital. Please don't be alarmed." when he talked to her parents on the phone in broken Japanese. The next morning, he'd brought her a coffee and a cinnamon muffin when she'd been unable to buy them herself. He'd noted the smile she gave him next to Nathaniel's.

Newt shoots Tendo a grin every time he sees him and is the only person to call him "brother" back. He often wears dangerously tight T-shirts with ridiculous patterns on them, just because it's another way to eradicate underestimation when anyone who talks to him realises how fucking cool his brain actually is. Hermann often lies awake at night wondering if Newton is actually an obnoxiously cloud, crushingly optimistic, _short_ , broad shouldered, infantile angel. Not that he'd ever admit to this.

\--

It's 5:34am on a Thursday morning when Newton realises that he's stood in the shower for too long, pondering whether the link between the vertebrae of two kaiju back bones he has lying on his desk has anything to do with the double helix phosphate and it's individual genetics, or if, yet again, the link is because the DNA between the two kaiju is completely identical, despite predicted age and heritage differences. He scrambles out, working his mind through whether the alleles actually have genotypes or if everything is phenotypical (Is that a word? He doesn't care.), towel dries his body and flicks his hair to the side, hastily pulls on a shirt and tie, rolling up the cuffs as he shoves his feet into his boots. He, of course, skids slightly as he whirls around the corner outside his living space in the Shatterdome, yelling to Tendo that he owes him a bagel, and tugs on his labcoat as his feet hit the metal floor.

\--

"Hey Herms," Newt quick walks into the laboratory, walks straight across the line Hermann had constructed for the sole purpose of stopping Newton from cluttering his lab-space, untied laces from his boots whipping across the floor (which he had bought 2 years ago on a whim to piss off Hermann, and had kept ever since), and whips his lab coat onto his cluttered (admittedly, it looks like a bomb site, but he couldn't care less and it annoys Hermann...so, yeah) desk, and slides across it on his ass to hip bump Akemi, who is staring intently at the tablet in front of her.

"I have repeatedly requested for you to not call me that," Hermann, head bowed, doesn't even grace Newt with his gaze as he huffs derisively and continues to scribble. Newt notices that he rolls the balls of his feet to coax feeling back into his leg. Newt sticks his bottom lip out slightly, adding it to his mental list of things to remember.  
  
"Okay, Herms," He turns back to Akemi, ignoring the torrent of insults spewing from his colleagues mouth and dodging the book thrown in the direction of his chest. "So, what's the plan?"   
  
He looks around expectantly, arms raised to the ceiling in mock questioning.   
  
Hermann takes a breath to digest Newton's apparent consistent idiocy, then continues. "Plan? What on this green earth are you referring to - there has never been a _plan_ , there probably will never be a distinct, step-by-step _plan_ for the day, as, unlike you, Dr. Geiszler, most of us have progressed past adolescence and can function without indoctrinated guidance,"  
  
"That was one of your best ones yet," Newt swings his feet against the desk, boot hitting metal, clanging dimly, and smirks as he looks down at the floor. Hermann is tired, Newt can tell that much. His smile lines (when does he ever smile?) folding in at the edges of his conscience as he squints in exasperation at Newt. Smile lines: Newt adds it to the list.  
  
"Best what? Best failed attempt to elicit the realisation of the truth, that you are, in fact, a toddler? Because really, Newton, I am duly flattered because I have been trying to assist you in this epiphany of - "  
  
"No, calm it, dude," Newt lifts his hands in mock surrender, a smile tugging at the the sides of his mouth. "I was complimenting you on how much of a bitch you are. I've asked that question everyday for the past two weeks and only now have I found your, I dunno, true bitch potential. I felt that rant here. Right here." He is grinning at Hermann as he presses his hand (Hermann's eyes flit from Newt's dirty fingernails and stay on his mouth: Newt notes that Hermann has a lip thing. Not that he'd have a lip thing for Newt. Just a lip thing. Like, an appreciative thing. "I appreciate your lip aesthetic". That sort of thing. Yeah. Hermann still hasn't looked away from his mouth.) to his heart and notices, as he is met with a glare of concentrated loathing, that Hermann's eyes are kinda golden. 

Kinda warm.

Measured.

Intricate.

Does Newt have an eye thing?

Huh.

"I know this may be a revelation to you Newton, but I am capable of a harsh word directed towards you _at least_ once a day, so please close your mouth and stop gawking," Newt's lips are parted, and he blushes a (delightful) shade of crimson, closing his mouth. Get your fucking act together, bro, he thinks.  
  
"Yeah, man, I know - I go through it every day," He composes himself by using his hands to propel himself from the desk, only to whirl around when Nathaniel ducks through a door to his right, holding up a tablet similar to Akemi's (they had gone shopping together after they both managed to drop theirs in shock twice in one week; they had thus improved their reaction time, resilience to Newt and Hermann's antics (as Kenko, a chemist from research, had so put it - proving how far the underhand niggling between the two Dr.'s had spread around the Shatterdome), and acquired a much more hard-wearing device), and calling "Have you seen this?"

Newt wanted to reply that _yes_ , he _had_ seen his forearms, thank you very much. He silently thanked genetics and habit that Nathaniel's sleeves were rolled up. instead, he answered that no, he had not seen "this". What "this" happened to be, as Nathaniel stood in the middle of them, was a broadcast message to all members of this laboratory who deal with kaiju anatomy - so, only Nathaniel and Newt. 2N. N squared. No. That implies multiplication. Not that Newt would mind, but he is a _professional_ , and - 

"Dear Dr. Geiszler, Dr. Carpier and others - " Nathaniel began.

"Others? What about Dr. Awesome Akemi? I deserve a mention for my innate intellectual ability at least," Akemi feigns mock indignation, looking up from her tablet. Newt snorts and congratulates her on her alliterative narcissistic nickname giving, then proceeds to congratulate himself. Hermann remains silent and makes an aggressive hand motion, waving Newton's exclamation off with a full-power-wattage-brighter-than-the-sun glare.

Nathaniel continues, eyes flickering between the two Dr.'s, and Akemi purses her lips and smiles.

"You are all aware of the kaiju's ability to mate and produce for a purpose," Newt rolls his eyes at Marshall Pentecost's lack of actual _biological knowledge_ ; well...lack of backed up assumptions. Newt doesn't actually _know_ if kaiju copulate. He just knows that they are able to reproduce. But he's not going to interrupt, because that wouldn't be very polite, or very rockstar, of him. Plus, Hermann is looking at him. Raising his eyebrow. Again. Is he squirming visibly, or something? Again? ...Newt drags his eyes to Hermann's and gulps. Tries not to wink. Does it anyway. Revels in the scowl that Hermann sports.

" - I thought I'd make it clear to you that an infant kaiju specimen is being detained and should be examined forthwith -"

Hermann's scowl turns into a look of pure, unadulterated, objected, convoluted horror. His mouth thins, his cheeks pale, and he just catches Newton leaping two feet into the air and propelling himself across Hermann's desk, before he rubs his hands over his eyes in an attempt to pretend that this is _not happening_. Newton is _not_ coming into contact with a kaiju. A baby kaiju.  
  
"A KAIJLING!" Newton _screams_ , as if reading Hermann's mind, and Hermann groans so loudly that Akemi almost drops her tablet again.  
  
"NEWTON! REFRAIN FROM BEING SO BLOODY IMMATURE," Hermann yells at him, swatting him in the stomach (Newton is lying horizontally across Hermann's desk, his knees level with Hermann's head) as Newt balls his hands into fists and demonstrates infantile enthusiasm. Sickening. Not in any way endearing.  
  
"I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS, THIS IS SO FUCKING - "  
  
"If you so much as _think_ about accepting this offer I will promptly drown you in the Pacific. You are not becoming a maternal underling to the kaiju species, and you are most definitely not going to raise the very being that is trying to destroy the cognitive idealism that you have created around you. Do _not_ even _think_ about it," Hermann is yelling now. Newton is still grinning. Akemi's tablet is on the floor. Hermann swears. Repeatedly.

" - Please report to the housing facilities aforementioned, and to eradicate any rumours of future breeding; it's not going to happen. You are only to examine, not to nurture.

I'm sure you will be able to talk Dr. Gottlieb around, as I am sure he has his reservations,

Marshall Stacker Pentecost." 

Nathaniel stops reading, rocking back on his heels and stifling a snigger as Akemi puts her hand on Newt's shoulder, sighing and letting her bangs (green, after Newt had shown her the photo of him back in college where he rocked green streaks in his hair and two piercings in his lip and one on his eyebrow (he had been badass, okay)) fall infront of her face.

"Absolutely fucking ridiculous," Hermann mutters as he strides, knuckles white against his cane, towards the blackboard.


	2. Betraying Confidences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Hermann are both "pull" and no one pushes. Ties are broken.

It is two hours and forty six minutes since Hermann has last talked to Newt. There have been longer times, like the time when he had stuck flame stickers all over Hermann’s cane, and had uttered “vroom vroom” whenever Hermann had tried to type faster than twenty keys per minute. The time when Newt had called him “grandpa science”. The time when he had coerced him into a drunken game of “Don’t Stab Hermann’s Fingers With The Implement But Go As Quickly As You Can Between Them” and had embedded a fork into Hermann’s ring finger. Those times had been _fun_. For Newt, at least. And Newt knew then that Hermann was going to forgive him. He had _noticed it_ in the way that Hermann wouldn’t stiffly move away when Newt dumped his tray next to his in the canteen, and would lift the fork Newt slid over towards him. Today, Hermann had moved twice and when Newt had snuck in later to persuade the workers to give him some orange juice, the fork hadn’t been moved. 

He knew it because Hermann drilled his fingers against his knee when he wanted to say something that agitated him, and this time Hermann’s fingers had remained tightly wrapped around his cane. Newt had watched them and thought himself pitiful. Even more so when Hermann deliberately turned around. 

\--

Now, they are alone in the lab. Hermann is facing the blackboard, and Newt stands silhouetted against the doorframe on the opposite side. It would have been artistic if Newt hadn’t stopped dead when he’d entered, remembering Hermann’s flinch when he’d put his arm on his shoulder earlier that day, trying to make amends. 

He is now gulping back the feeling of dread pooling in his chest, nails from his conscious raking savagely at the coiled apprehension wrapped around his neck. His hands and his stomach are tangled in knots and he’s twisting his ring so violently around his finger that he doubts it’ll be long before he wears it away completely. He protests outright when he accidentally catches his fingernail on his skin. It is then when Hermann realises he’s there. His hands move to his leg, and he moves his thumb in an absent minded circle near his knee cap. 

Newt notices. Newt doesn’t say anything. He waits.

“I am unable to comprehend what went through your _brilliant_ brain when you agreed to – “ 

Hermann stops, rubbing a hand over his eyes and looking utterly _exhausted_. Newt’s chest twinges with something that feels akin to remorse, but he dryly gulps it down and tells himself that _he is right_ , and Hermann _has_ to realise that. He feels the scrapings of guilt down his throat as he launches into self-righteous indignation.

“ _Excuse me?_ This is an incredible opportunity, and I hardly hold _myself_ accountable for your prejudiced misgivings on scientific progress when it doesn’t have anything to do with hazy predictions, or definite calculations forged so you do not have the obligation to get actively involved – I _know_ you Hermann, you’re scared. You’re fucking scared, and it’s ridiculously unfair if you –“ Newt is almost shouting, already indignant. His subconscious cannot believe he is being such a brat; swatting his own fears onto Hermann’s frontal cortex and immediately resorting to building up extensive defensive walls as soon as _anyone_ , even the person he respects with every ounce of his being, disagrees with the idealism that he has clutched onto since he was small. He is swelling with pent up aggression at why the _fuck_ Hermann is so worked up, and anything Newt can’t work out he will repel; he will swirl into a haze of misconceptions and become infatuated with the answer and its misgivings. He can’t do that to Hermann, he can’t do that to Hermann, he can’t - 

“Scared?” Hermann cuts him off as if he knows the consequences of Newt’s dissonance spiral. His voice is quiet, _calm_ , and he is looking over his shoulder slightly at Newt. “Newton – they are a plague. They have destroyed the very wellbeing of humanity itself and to entice progress through fraternisation and something similar to _care_ goes against everything I have fought to stand for - through the very destruction of the thing that you are trying to _love_! You - you cannot love them, Newton.” 

“Hermann, I’m not doing to fucking _do_ anything – if you’re implying that I’d endanger my own _species_ because of indefinite predicted maternal instincts towards the kaiju then you _really_ need to get your head out of your – “

“That is _exactly_ what I am implying.”

Newt drops his hands to his sides with a muffled thwack. A short laugh forces its way through his solecism, and he breaks through the final walls of disregard to finally, truly, administer betrayal:

“Well, you know what? Fuck you,” 

Hermann turns to face him now, rocking on his heels as his breath shudders. Newt notices the muscle in his jaw jump, and his mouth thin. Newt is distinctly reminded of the time Hermann got off of the phone with his father for the last time, hands shaking and eyes so bloodshot that any mocking was out of the question. Newt sat with him for an hour outside a monochrome block of flats; legs stretched out, jacket tied around his shoulders, hand laid flat against Hermann’s knee, rubbing small circles into it until Hermann felt the nerve to mutter the first words since the phone call: 

“Let’s go”. Newt had gone.

Now, Hermann has the steely resolve of a man too often downtrodden, and he laughs in the same way Newt did moments before. Newt gets the distinct impression that he is being subtly mocked. 

“How _ridiculously_ mature,” Hermann lifts his arms up into the air, surrendering something that Newt doesn’t want to know.  
  
"And trying to control me isn't?" 

“I was only trying to stop you from being an _idiot!_ ” Hermann is shouting now; almost manic in the way that he _laughs_ at Newt, and Newt feels like a drowning man.

“By no social construct do you have a right to control what I do – “

“I am not _controlling_ what you do, I am simply saying that – “

“What are you saying, Hermann? Huh?! What the fuck are you saying? Oh deific, oh consistently accurate in all his doings, oh congruently magnificent and terrifying to us mere mortals – “ 

“I am _saying_ that it is a little insensitive to nurture the invasion that destroyed the family of the girl you care so much about – “

“DO NOT BRING MAKO INTO THIS,” Newt screams, and his voice cracks. Hermann notices and a smile tugs at the edge of his resolve. 

“How _else_ am I supposed to crack through the multilayered cognitive experience that is your maturity complex, Newton?! How else am I supposed to tell you that this is a _ridiculous_ idea? You **will** hurt yourself,” Hermann’s eyes are not golden, they are _on fire_. “And - and I am unable to deal with the consequences.”

Silence. Newt is fiddling with his sleeves around his wrists (he feels confined, alone, controlled; and he shrugs away the subconscious realisation that he’s fucked _everything_ up), and looks up at Hermann.

“Well,” He turns, walking away. “You’re lucky you don’t have to,” 

Newt ignores the urge to look back, and repeats his shaky self-belief like a mantra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst and probable sleep deprivation from both parties mixed with comforting knee rubs ;n;
> 
> again, feedback is wonderful and lovely and much appreciated. i am definitely going to continue with it because i like where it's going, but i'd like to know if you do too. :)
> 
> AGAIN, you can find me on tumblr: newtgeiszlere/robbstahk (i use both pretty regularly, but i prefer robbstahk because of my own bitterness) and twitter: @geiszlieb <3


	3. primarily: doubtful, secondarily: intoxicated

Newt hasn’t spoken to anyone except from the bartender for four hours, seven minutes and however many seconds. It has been an indefinite amount of time _(too long)_ since he has downed his last drink, and his legs feel like lead.  
  
He feels pathetic. Run down. Destitute. Maybe even helpless, if he delves as deep as he can into his own subconscious belief that if he’s not good enough to stop his mother from leaving, then he’s really not –  
  
He stops himself. He has gone there before. He is not going there again. His own innate intellectual ability is enough for him to realise that allowing the tide of emptiness to take him away is _dumb_ , and Newton Geiszler is far from dumb. 

It doesn’t stop him from feeling utterly adrift in his own fucking brain, though. 

\--

He is still wearing the clothes in which he had fought with Hermann, and they feel as restrictive as the crushing contrition (he doesn't even have the heart to congratulate himself) pressing cold fingers against his sternum. He waves apathetically at the barman, and ignores the eyebrow lift he gets in return.

\--

“You okay?” Newt hears the voice way too close to his ear, and lifts his murky head from where it rested, between his arms, on the counter. A young worker stands there, looking at him quizzically as they wipe a towel over the edges of Newt’s hands in their scouring of the remnants of people whom had already left approximately an hour ago. Newt seems to be the only one there.

That is so weird. This is a _bar_. People _drink_ here. Has everyone gone _literally_ insane? It’s a Friday night! They should be...partying. Living the sheep mentality that they’ve been raised to live. Becoming the hive mind that they were destined to be. Following social norms. Fulfilling their alcohol ingestion potential. He would be, at least, if he wasn't kinda _miserable_ and already drunk _on his own_.

He fiddles with the small umbrella from one of his earlier drinks tucked behind his ear, and doesn't even bother with the others strewn across his lap. He looks up.

“Wha – mm’yeah,” He slumps his head back against his arms with a resounding thump and exhales sharply in a bitter laugh as he imagines the bartender’s flinch. 

“Fight with your uh - ... partner?” Newt looks up again, mouth open at an angle. He probably looks like an ape. A kinda sexy ape, hopefully. In the “if I was drunker, I would” way.

“Nah – nope, no...No...No, man, no, I am definitely single. It’s a work thing. I want to do one thing, he wants to do another...” Newt realises how much it sounds like he’s talking about his “partner”. “I mean – we have differing opinions. I live in the present, he lives in 260AD. I want to move forward, he wants to stay in his cerebral comfort zone. It’s just his opinion kinda gets to me when I make these decisions about moving forward because I actually really, really respect him. He’s kinda great. I mean, he wears clothes that I would _never_ wear – not that I don’t respect that, you know, I dig the blushing 1940’s virgin vibe. Not that I’d know he’s a virgin, I mean – He probably isn’t. People dig that kinda aesthetic. I say people because he’s dated guys and girls in the time I’ve known him, and they’ve all been doctors and really _influential_. I’ve dated my tattoo artist? Uh... He was influential. In my life, at least. Look at me, I mean – “ 

He lifts up his sleeves, and the bartender; a wavy bob of candy floss coloured hair and several piercings on their lips and eyebrows and collarbones; swats his arm with their hand.

“Hey! Stop talking.” Newt is too shocked at them not walking away outright as soon as he started talking. “I have _no idea_ who you are, but you need to get your head out of your ass, man. You have talked more about your relationship with the guy than the actual problem – that’s the problem you’re facing. I’m sure he’s cute, but a decision is a decision, and only you can make it. With or without his help is irrelevant; it’s your future. Take him along for the ride, or drop him. If he means that much to you, then he’ll come back. Like a rubber band. Use that theory. Now, it’s 3:36AM, and I have a break in 24 minutes. Are you going to take me out for early morning bagels, or am I going to have to slip you my number while subtly stealing something from your inside pocket so I have an excuse to see you again?”

Newt is feeling _distinctly better_ now that a person has taken interest in him. He needs this for his narcissism. He feels like Zelda when he finds those little gems. 10XP for validating yourself from other people’s aesthetic appreciation (he congratulates himself this time) of you. He still knows that he’s going to have to deal with the “problem” sooner or later, but right now his brain and his groin are both feeling the strain. In a ratio of 4:2. Mostly his brain.

“My pronouns are xe/xem and I will _never_ appreciate jokes about me looking like an Asian Disney princess. Pick me up at 4.”

Newt nods, raises his drink, slops some of it onto his shirt, and watches xem walk through a door labelled “Staff Only”. 

He is alone. Fully, this time. Just him and his slightly damp chest. He sighs, and realises he’s going to have to force himself to think through what the _fuck_ he is going to do.

Hermann is someone he respects completely, and disregarding his opinion to shamefully exploit his own wishes is wrong, both in a sense that he is his colleague, and in a sense that he is his friend. Neglecting his own wishes for the sake of sating Hermann is wrong to himself, though. On a social level, it is a matter of disappointing himself or Hermann – and would the consequences of that disappointment complex lead to further setbacks? Both in their relationship and his _life_?

Is he thinking too much into this? (He shrugs to himself and ignores the small voice telling him that this is what he has always done. He overthinks _everything_ ).  
  
(He coaxes the even smaller voice forward; the one telling him that his analysis of even the mundane is what makes him so intellectively brilliant).

What are the repercussions; the after-effects? Debris from an explosion of impulsiveness strewn across a conscience will ruin _something_ , he knows that. Be that Hermann’s trust; his friendship, or his contact altogether. Everything is to do with Hermann – but naming him the obstacle to his impetus is again, _wrong_. 

He is so _fucked_.

Is Hermann’s objection the only thing holding him back from investigating the kaiju? Assuming that all authority is against him except from Marshall Pentecost, whom has _explicitly stated_ that he is behind Newt in his examination (but not subsistence through _breeding_. Ew. Not that it’d be subsistence, anyway – mostly just making Newt more awesome than he already is. Or insane. Whatever.), and can’t take that back because it’s officially _in writing_ , he still has a pretty good chance of not being consistently ridiculed if he goes through with it.

So, social aspects aside: The only thing stopping him is Hermann. Marshall Pentecost can override any criticisms because he’s a celestial being, and all friends of Newt’s are definitely 94% _for_ his interaction with “Kaijling”. Or, they will be. As soon as Newt uses his incredible oratorical skills and pre-eminently widespread hand gestures to persuade them, that is. No one can resist a passionate scientist in neohipster glasses with an attention deficit problem. 

No one.

But considering the danger aspect, he’s decided he doesn’t care enough about that. He’s risked his life for science before. He can do it again. He _will_ do it again.  
  
He disregards “danger” with a backhanded swat from his egotistical self-belief.

\--

A distant 23 minutes later, Newt has concluded that on The Scale Of Things **Not** Holding Him Back From Fulfilling His Genius Potential, the list is as follows:

1\. The kaiju.  
2\. His friends.  
3\. Authority (generally).  
4\. Himself.  
5\. His parents.  
6\. The general public.

On The Scale Of Things That **Are** Holding Him Back From Fulfilling His Genius Potential, the list is as follows:

1.Hermann.

\--

This is ridiculously unfair. Hermann isn't actively holding him back; Newt just can't go against him. Is that because he’s so used to going _with him_ , or because of his subconscious wish to make things work with Hermann? To maintain a working relationship that invokes supplicated appreciation and consideration of each other, while still going down their own respective life paths? 

All that it comes down to is that Newt just really needs a hug. He texts Mako.

[help]

He awaits a reply. He ignores that it is almost 4am. She'll be up.

[Hi! What with?]

He silently punches the air.

[eveyhting] He ignores his spelling, and hits send. He has an excuse; he’s mildly intoxicated. Mako will understand.

[Be more specific.]

[u know the argunemt hermann and i had abt teh kaijling thign]

[Yes...What about it?]

[idk what to do adn idk why idk waht to do bc usually i’m gd at this .... knowing stfuf]

[working otu stuff]

[this brian stuff]

[brain***]

[i met a cute japanese person at the bar today]

[i’m going out 4 bagels w/ xem in 3 mins]

[i miss u]

[Aw, Newt...I...Follow your heart, okay? Everything’ll turn out okay in the end; it always does with you two. You go and follow science, and Hermann will follow you. Love you. X]  
  
[I miss you too. We haven’t watched a bad movie together in a while.]

[yh ik we need to get on that. i’ve heard supersonic 3 is evEN shittier than supersonic 2]

[Seriously? Supersonic 2 was...so bad. So, so bad.]

[Hey! Reply to my pep talk.]

[soz;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;] 

[yeah good idea. I’m gonan...idk]

[i’m just gonna do it and apologise to him for being a dick]

[ily]

[okay my new froind is here and i need to look presentable]

[me saying new friedn does’tn mean that ur not still my friend. U r still one of my ultiimite faves]

[im sorry for myspelkign]

[Don’t worry. I know. Go and get breakfast. :) Have fun!]

[oh i will. I LVOE breAKST FOOIDS] 

He shoves his phone into his back pocket, and stands up when xe walks back into the bar, coat in hand.

“Hey,” Xe grins and plucks at his jacket shoulder.

“Howdy,” His internal monologue swears, and he rectifies his greeting. “I – hey. Hey. Wanna go?” He holds out his arm for xem to link with, and xe takes it.  
  
\--  
  
It’s 6am and Newt is snorting into a mint chocolate milkshake, wiping his glasses on his shirt and slapping his hand onto his knee. He has learned that xyr name is Avery and xe likes 90’s teen movies and neurochemistry.

“No way!” He holds his stomach to stop himself from convulsing, and looks at Avery.

“Yeah. Then he decided to _fire me_. I mean, _seriously_? Even I was shocked.”

“That is fucking ridiculous.” Newt is still grinning, and suddenly feels kinda sentimental towards xem. “I’ve had fun this morning, and you hooked me up with your piercing artist, so this has been really great for a first time meeting. Thanks.”

“So have I.” Xe smiles at him, and there is a pause in which Newt recovers from his laughter. “This is only friendly though, right? I’m not feeling anything.”

Newt looks up.

“I – well, yeah. If you want it to be. I’m cool with anything you wanna do. I’m good like that. We should definitely do this more than once, though; now that I know your name and almost everything about your Dad.”

“Cool. Sounds like a plan, Newton Geiszler, originally from Germany and who used to have a stutter when he was 7 years old. But unfortunately,” Xe extends the last syllable, looking at xyr pocket watch from inside xyr shirt breast pocket. “I have to go and sleep before my next shift starts. See you in the early morning some time?”

“That also sounds like a plan that I would definitely like to get behind,” 

Xe lifts xyr bag over their shoulder, and shrugs on xyr trench coat.

“Hey – don’t sweat it about this work thing though, okay? Make the decision that’s best for you,” Xe winks at him before walking out of the tiny café, and strides down the back alley it’s situated in, reflections from the puddles glinting on the heels of xyr brogues. 

It suddenly feels empty, and it’s as if his laughter has left him harrowed. 

He shrugs and rubs his eyes, before following suit and making his way towards the Shatterdome, boxed in by haphazard brickwork and the confinements of his own ever present doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i can report to you after this chapter is;;; my poor son.... oh god...newton...babe. 
> 
> thank you thank you thank you to sofie for google doc-ing this up and checking through it, making sure everything was okay and leaving heartwarming little comments along the way :)
> 
> again, i love and adore and appreciate feedback and comments and everything. you can find me on tumblr: robbstahk/newtgeiszlere, and on twitter: @geiszlieb <3


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